


Unseemly

by OceanTheSoulRebel



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, after the hookup, dorian is poking around in his own head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OceanTheSoulRebel/pseuds/OceanTheSoulRebel
Summary: When it happens, they still don’t know if they trust each other.Want each other, yes. Almost desperately, in a way that seems like it should feel worse, but he doesn’t care. He chases the feeling of being wanted, even if it is in spite of his being a mage.But Dorian Pavus is good at what he does–and what he does is magic and now, apparently, the Iron Bull.





	Unseemly

When it happens, they still don’t know if they trust each other. 

Want each other, yes. Almost desperately, in a way that seems like it should feel worse, but he doesn’t care. He chases the feeling of being _wanted,_ even if it is in spite of his being a mage. 

But Dorian Pavus is good at what he does–and what he does is magic and now, apparently, the Iron Bull. 

It’s all… unseemly. Years of personal debauchery doesn’t undo the pressure of generations of careful breeding and skin-tight expectations, the ideas and ideals of the Pavus line that have been molded into the core of his very being. What freedom he’s scrabbled for and gained is hoarded but comes with a cost. What would anyone say, about his fucking a Qunari? Ben-Hassrath, even. What would Dorian say back? 

Does it matter, in the greater scheme of things?

The Iron Bull doesn’t slumber but rests beside him anyway, hand splayed over Dorian’s back, smoothing idle circles into his skin. It’s halfway familiar, in the way that lovers are, taking liberties and stealing touches in the afterglow. 

He remembers the stories of Qunari mages, collared and shackled with their mouths sewn shut, and wonders what the cost of this freedom might be. 

“I should go,” Dorian mutters hoarsely, his hand rising unconsciously to his lips. “I should… I should go.” 

Putting on his clothes takes far less time than taking them off did; Dorian groans when he realizes it’s because half of the leather straps were torn from their anchors. Damn that man. He shakes his head and ties himself up into some semblance of being clothed. Not like these people would know one way or another if he had a wardrobe malfunction, they wouldn’t know fashion if it were a dog and bit them.

A smile to cover up the unease, then, to finish the look. 

He turns to say something–anything, _anything_ to fill the wretched silence–and finds the Iron Bull watching him, eye gleaming, his head propped up in a massive hand. 

Maker, those hands. 

Dorian coughs to clear his throat, having suddenly swallowed his tongue. “I’ll…” 

“I’ll see you around,” the Bull supplies after a moment. He nods but doesn’t turn away, gaze roving over his face and body in a way that makes Dorian flush again, sets heat coursing through him once more. “Yeah.”

It’s unseemly how he reacts to this man. An attraction that, rightfully, shouldn’t be, but the world _is_ in chaos; perhaps this is a symptom of the overarching madness that is his life at the moment. 

 _We’ll see about that,_ Dorian thinks to himself. He nods back and slips out the door, pulling it shut behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr at [ocean-in-my-rebel-soul!](https://ocean-in-my-rebel-soul.tumblr.com)
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> Comments and concrit always appreciated! Thank you for reading!


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